Behind the Scar
by cherryblossom1999
Summary: When Dumbledore vanishes mysteriously near the end of Harry's fifth year, he does leave something behind- seven strange books and a note. Much to Harry's discomfort, Hogwarts gathers together to read books that he'd much rather them not read.


_**A/N: I don't own the Harry Potter characters. That honour belongs to J.K alone. But here it is: my "Harry reads the books" attempt. I'll be writing direct lines from the books into this fic. I hope you don't mind. Enjoy!**_

"Where is he?" Fudge yelled, pushing himself up from the floor. His face had gone near purple in apoplectic rage, and he gestured wildly with his hands, sweat beading on his plump brow.

"_Where is he?!"_

"I don't know!" shouted Kingsley, also leaping to his feet.

"Well, he can't have Disapparated!" cried Umbridge. "You can't-"

"Shut up!" Harry said, suddenly. His scar was hurting, aching with a stinging pain, but he brushed it off. Professor McGonagall gave a sharp intake of breath at his words, a silent warning by his side, but Harry's gaze was focused more the floor of Dumbledore's office.

"You hear?!" Umbridge shrieked, flapping her pudgy hand at Harry with every word that came out of her mouth. "Such _disrespect_ towards his superiors, Minister! Surely that is a sign of his delusions of grandeur, his fantasies he has carved for himself, craving attention –"

"Oh, shut your mouth, Delores, you bat." Professor McGonagall snapped, her patience, it seemed, worn out. Dawlish, Fudge and Umbridge were all blinking rather foolishly, standing stock still in the middle of Dumbledore's office.

Harry crossed the room to where his attention had wanderered previously, picking up the neat stack of books that had appeared on the floor the instant Dumbledore had vanished. There appeared to be seven in total, the first being thin and getting progressively thicker. They were neatly bound in place with a purple and silver ribbon, a note on top.

Kingsley broke the silence, peering over Harry's shoulder to read the note aloud. Harry felt as if his insides had been solidified.

"_Hogwarts," _Kingsley read in his deep, soothing voice. "_As someone sincerely concerned about the current state of events you find yourself in, it has come to my attention that you may need a little something to guide you in the times to come. You'll find attached to this note seven books that you must read out loud to Hogwarts as a whole. There are also a few other people invited, and they will also have received an invitation. These books are written from the perspective of none other than Harry Potter, and chronicle the events that happen from his birth to the end of the second wizarding war. I can assure you that every word written in this book is the undeniable truth. Delores Umbridge, Cornelius Fudge: you may find these books of use to you. I wish you luck, and Harry? My sincerest apologies. _

_P.S: You needn't concern yourself over reading the books yourselves. These books are charmed to read themselves. Open one and the charm will activate."  
_Kingsley's deep baritone faded as he finished the note, and Harry found himself on shaky legs. The events of the night had been too much.

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall asked finally, her lips pursed disapprovingly. "I've never heard such nonsense! Such books would be impossible – the end of the second wizarding war hasn't even happened yet!"

"Surely we must read these books, Minister," Umbridge said, looking at Fudge with a simpering sweet voice. "Revealing Potter's lies is beneficial for us all. This way, we can convince everyone the truth – that Potter is a sad, little boy seeking some fame and attention."

Fudge looked nervously between the towering, furious Minerva McGonagall to the octopus that had currently attached herself to his side. "I- I- I…" he stuttered, fanning himself with one hand. "It would not do harm, I must agree…"

"Sir!" Dawlish interrupted, looking scandalised. "Do we really have the time to peruse meaningless drivel? Our main objective as of now should be to pinpoint the location of Albus Dumbledore! Who knows the shenanigans he may stir-"

"Enough, Dawlish!" Fudge yelled, his voice lacking any real power. "I… I am the Minister of Magic, and I will not have you undermining me in front of these people. It's…. It's far too late to go chasing after Dumbledore, we'll never find him. We must focus our attentions on these books, yes."

"A wise choice, Minister," Umbridge said, her gaze fixed upon Harry, who found himself at a loss for words. He felt Professor McGonagall's hand land on his shoulder, and the contact spurred him to speak.

"Wait a second!" he said, incredulously. "These are books about my life, written from my perspective. You can't just read them to everyone in Hogwarts!"

"We can if we say we can, Potter, and we'll have no more talking back from you." Umbridge snapped. "You're underage, you have no say in the matter."

"Delores," Kingsley interjected, still holding the books in his large hands. He shot an apologetic look to Harry before saying, "Consider what the boy is saying. It would be an invasion of privacy at the least-"

"You disappoint me, Kingsley," Umbridge wiped her palms excitedly on the pink fabric of her dress. "These books could mean everything for us. Dumbledore is gone, meaning I am not Headmistress. Get out of my office, Potter, and take that stupid girl with you," she added, pointing to a dazed Marietta, whom Professor McGonagall was still supporting. "We'll begin the books tomorrow. There will be no more discussion on the topic."

Harry glared at her, but when Umbridge pointedly looked down to his palm and back up, he felt the phantom pain race through his hand once again. Aggravated, he stomped out of Dumbledore Umbridge's office, Professor McGonagall in tow.

They walked the way to the Hospital Wing, where Professor McGonagall gently deposited Marietta, then headed to the Gryffindor Common Room in silence. Harry was fuming inwardly, seething with humiliation and rage. Who knew what could be in those books - his every thought, his feelings for Cho, his childhood… all laid bare for the school to see. He imagined Malfoy sniggering at the Dursley's treatment of him, and felt another surge of self-righteous rage, almost stumbling over a stone step as he did so.

Professor McGonagall caught his arm as they neared the Fat Lady.  
"Potter," She said, her voice worried, "If you feel, in any way… violated by that horrible woman in the days to come, you come straight to me. Alright?"

Harry looked at her and felt a surge of affection. Whatever issues he had had with Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall had nothing to do with them.

"Yes, Professor," he said, muttered "fairy lights" to the Fat Lady, and walked away, feeling her gaze on the back of his neck the whole way.


End file.
